[Third Person's PoV]
Stephen and Mimosa sat together in a comfortable silence. Mimosa leaned her head gently against his shoulder, her soft breaths matching the rise and fall of his. Their fingers were intertwined.
After a while, Mimosa broke the silence, her voice barely more than a whisper. "You know… we can get this annulled if you really want to. I don't mind," she murmured, as if reluctant to disturb the peace between them.
Stephen shook his head slowly, casting a thoughtful look. "Somehow, I doubt it's that simple. Like you said, it was the Wizard King who made it official. I don't think he'd be too keen to retract it. Not without good reason, at least."
Mimosa's eyes drifted to the floor, a faint hint of determination beneath her gentle gaze. "It was my mother's wish," she said softly. "If you truly wanted to end this, I could convince her to take it back."
Stephen turned to her, his gaze steady and searching. "But do you want it to be annulled?" he asked, raising a curious brow.
Mimosa hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around his. "It's… not really about what I want," she replied, looking away. "I wouldn't want you to feel trapped or obligated to do something you don't want."
"But that's just it, Mimosa. It does matter." Stephen's voice was firm, but kind. "An engagement isn't something one person should decide on their own. No offense, but I don't want to make decisions for you, like your mother seems to think she can. So yes, your feelings matter. If you don't want to annul this, then let's talk it through. That's why I'm here—to work through this together."
For a moment, Mimosa was quiet, her expression softening as she looked at him. Slowly, she reached up, her fingertips brushing his cheek with tenderness. "You're… a very kind person, Stephen," she whispered.
But then her gaze fell, a flicker of regret crossing her face. "I'm sorry. I know it's selfish, but… I don't want to annul it," she admitted, her voice thick with a mix of vulnerability and hope. She began to pull her hand away, her expression downcast, but Stephen gently clasped her hand before she could retreat.
"Alright then," he said simply, a small smile curving his lips. "We won't annul it."
"Eh?" Mimosa blinked, surprise lighting up her features. He hadn't even taken a moment to think it over. "But I thought…"
"Just because we're engaged doesn't mean we have to rush into marriage, right?" Stephen's smile grew as he turned his full attention to her, his voice brimming with warmth and understanding.
Mimosa's heart skipped a beat as she realized what he was suggesting, and she found herself nodding eagerly.
"So let's take our time," he continued. "Let's get to know each other better. And if, a few years down the line, you decide I'm not the one for you, then we can part as friends. But if, after all that, you do still want to marry me… then we'll make it official. How does that sound?"
Unable to contain her emotions, Mimosa threw her arms around him in a heartfelt embrace. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice laced with relief. "Thank you for going along with my selfishness."
Stephen was momentarily taken aback but quickly returned the hug, chuckling softly. Mimosa pulled back slightly, gazing up at him with a shy smile. "If you ever fall in love with someone else," she began, her voice barely a murmur, "I don't want our engagement to hold you back. Just tell me, and… we'll call it off. I want you to be happy."
Stephen nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The same goes for you," he assured her gently.
Mimosa smiled, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes. They stayed like that for a while, savoring the quiet.
…
Later, as the night grew deeper, Stephen and Mimosa stood facing each other in her mirror, preparing to say their goodbyes.
"I think I may have overstayed my welcome," Stephen said with a sheepish smile. "It's getting late."
Mimosa shifted, glancing down as she twiddled her fingers. "Will… will you come visit me like this again?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Stephen raised an amused brow. "Would you like me to?"
Mimosa flushed, looking away. "Though you did show up like a creepy pervert, I… enjoyed your visit. Just… maybe send a message next time?" she added bashfully, a small smile playing on her lips.
Stephen chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I'll be sure to give you a fair warning the next time I decide to show up like a pervert."
Turning toward the mirror that would be his passage back, when he felt a gentle tug on his cloak. He looked back to find Mimosa standing on her tiptoes, her face tinged pink as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
A rosy hue colored Stephen's cheeks as he stared at her in surprise.
Mimosa looked down, practically glowing with embarrassment. "A kiss on the cheek is normal… right?" she mumbled, fidgeting with her hands. "I mean… you are my fiancé."
Stephen felt a grin tug at his lips. "Right…" he murmured, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her cheek in return. "I'll see you soon."
With one last look, he turned and stepped through the mirror, which shimmered briefly before swallowing him up, leaving Mimosa alone in the quiet room.
As the reality of the evening settled over her, Mimosa touched her cheek, her mind reeling. I didn't think he'd actually kiss me back!
Letting out a soft squeal, she hurried back to her bed and flopped down, hugging her pillow tightly. She traced her fingers over her cheek and then her lips, a soft giggle escaping as she whispered, "I hope he doesn't think I'm… too easy…"
With one last happy sigh, she looked up at the ceiling, a gentle smile on her face. "Thank you, Mother," she whispered, her heart brimming with contentment.
…
As Stephen arrived back at the base, stepping out from the fractures of the mirror dimension, he stretched deeply, a large grin stretching across his face as he savored the feeling of being back. Noticing Nero perched on her usual spot with her typical deadpan look, Stephen rolled his eyes, finding the sight amusing.
With a skip in his step, he made his way over to his bed, his grimoire clutched tightly in his hands. Sitting down, he glanced toward Nero, beckoning with a playful tone, "Come on…"
Nero looked hesitant, her feathers ruffling slightly before she took flight and landed on his shoulder. Stephen smiled as he opened his grimoire, and in a flash, the two were transported to his mystical library.
...
Secre and Stephen stood together in the ethereal library. Stephen raised his hand and confidently called out, "Cyttorak-natured spells…"
Immediately, a red, leather-bound tome flew through the air and landed in his hand, emanating a faint crimson glow. "You see, not only did I manage to get Wanda out of that crystal," he said with a proud smirk, "I also tricked a dimensional lord into letting me access his realm without him realizing it. Now, I can finally use the spells I was most interested in learning: the Bands of Cyttorak!"
Secre, however, seemed unimpressed, her expression one of practiced disinterest as she strolled past him. She reached a nearby ladder, climbed up, and pulled a book from a high shelf, ignoring Stephen as she began to examine it.
Stephen watched her, raising an eyebrow in confusion as she climbed down and headed to her usual reading spot without sparing him a second glance. "Secre?" he called, following after her, unsure why she was giving him the cold shoulder.
With a soft huff, Secre leaped up onto a small table, scooting back, pointedly ignoring him. Stephen sighed, exasperated. "What did I do this time?"
Secre snapped her book open a bit too forcefully, holding it up to cover her face. "You're five hundred years old and acting like a child..." he muttered, rolling his eyes.
She lowered her book just enough to shoot him a glare. Not letting her attitude deter him, Stephen stepped closer, pulling the book from her hands, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. "Use your words," he said, his voice firm. "Why are you acting this way?"
She scoffed, looking away, then finally muttered, "Why are you even bothering with me? Shouldn't you be talking to one of your many other women? Ever since you became a Magic Knight, it's like you're collecting them—Noelle, Vanessa...not to mention your 'fiance'...and now there's Wanda."
Stephen had to turn away, stifling a laugh as he covered his mouth.
"Is something I said funny?" Secre asked, her tone icy.
He shook his head, failing to keep a smirk off his face. "I'm sorry, I just need a second… Secre 'Nero' Swallowtail is jealous. I've seen it all now!" he chuckled.
"My middle name isn't Nero!" Secre snapped, cheeks flushed. "And I am not jealous."
Stephen looked at her more seriously now. "Have I done something to make you feel like this?"
Secre turned her face away, her voice barely a whisper. "No… that's because I'm not jealous."
Stephen let out a frustrated sigh. "I just don't understand you, Secre. Wasn't it you who pushed me away not too long ago? And now… now you're acting like this?"
"What are you talking about?" Secre asked, looking stunned.
"Don't pretend you don't remember," he said, his irritation evident. "When I was testing the Eye of Agamotto… we shared something, a real moment. And then you pushed me away. That hurt, you know."
Her expression softened, and she bit her lip, looking down. "You don't understand, Stephen. I'm five hundred years old… a bird, cursed to be as such for many more years, and all I could ever be to you is your pet, your familiar. One day, I'll have to watch you grow old, fall in love, have a family, and then...die. And I'll remain just... me. A bird, a familiar, a relic of a past age. Getting closer to you means just that much more heartache down the line."
She took a shaky breath, struggling to maintain her composure. "I shouldn't get jealous. It's not my place… but I can't help it. Watching you with other people—it hurts."
In that moment, Stephen leaned forward and silenced her with a gentle kiss, catching her entirely off guard. Her eyes fluttered shut as a tear slipped down her cheek, and she pressed her forehead to his, her voice trembling.
"You're cruel, Stephen Strange. So very cruel…"
He looked into her tear-filled eyes, his voice low but resolute. "I won't let that happen," he vowed, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "I won't let you suffer like that."
She placed her hands on either side of his face, searching his eyes. "How… How can I believe that? I'm scared, Stephen."
"A sorcerer's word is his bond," he said softly, holding her gaze with a solemn promise. "If I say I'll make it happen, I will."
Secre closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his once more, her grip tightening as she whispered, "Please… don't let me lose you. I can't bear the thought of it. Don't… don't lie to me."
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